Then, before any answer could be returned, the stage was beyond reach of Ross's voice, disappearing in a cloud of dust. "What patient does he mean?" asked the sheriff. "It's a fellow I helped when I first came out here," answered Ross frankly. He was afraid of the sheriff's suspicions. "He was hurt in front of Sagehen Roost, and as I know something about surgery I--helped--to fix him up." The sheriff studied his horse's ears. A look of perplexity overspread his face. "I heard of that down in Basin. But it seems to me that was before you come." He looked hard at Ross. "The McKenzies said----" He stopped suddenly, and bit his lips. Ross seized this pause to mutter, "It's not so long ago," and forged ahead on the trail, taking good care to keep ahead until the lights of Cody and the odor of the Shoshone River--"Stinking Water"--smote their senses together through the gathering darkness of the early December night. Then the sheriff, straightening in his saddle, said in a voice of authority: "Come back here. We'll ride neck and neck now." Ross fell back, and asked his first question, and no sooner was it out than he bit his lips savagely in vexation at his own thoughtlessness. "Is Mr. Jones stopping at 'The Irma'?" "Who?" exploded the sheriff. "Mr. Jones," murmured Ross in confusion. The sheriff looked the boy over silently but intently in the moonlight. The blood surged into Ross's face, and, despite the chill of the night wind, the perspiration broke out on his forehead. "Huh!" was the only response to his question. "Jones!" Then, with their horses neck to neck the two rode over the bridge together and for the second time entered the town to which Buffalo Bill has given his name, Cody. On the other side of the bridge, near the dust-deep road, stood a tent. The flap was fastened back, and, within, seated about a rough table, sat four men playing cards. When the sound of horses' hoofs reached the players, one of them arose and came to the tent's opening. It was Sandy McKenzie. The sheriff, still regarding Ross, did not look toward the tent, while Ross, excited over the prospect of meeting Leslie's father, and confused by his recent misspeech, scarcely bestowed a moment's thought on Sandy, whom he had known was in Cody and believed to be the instigator of the arrest. He glanced, however, within the tent as they passed and recognized Waymart. The man sitting next, his back to the open flap, his face bent over the cards in his hand, one leg stretched out under the table, looked strangely familiar to the boy, but he was too preoccupied to give him any attention. The fourth man, his face turned toward the riders, was a stranger. A moment later, a man took the horses in front of "The Irma," and the sheriff with his prisoner walked into the lobby and up to the desk. Picking up the pen, the sheriff thrust it into Ross's hand. "Register for yourself," he commanded briefly.